


Reincarnation 3.5: A Very Long Night

by Akaitsuru



Category: Shaman King (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Mostly Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-27
Updated: 2004-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25540570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaitsuru/pseuds/Akaitsuru
Summary: After an overly eventful day, one last thing happens that neither ghost nor shaman was expecting - but maybe both were hoping for.
Relationships: Amidamaru/Asakura Yoh
Kudos: 6





	Reincarnation 3.5: A Very Long Night

**Author's Note:**

> Summer 2020 notes: As soon as I found out the Shaman King manga is slated for a re-release in the US, I rushed over to the Amidamaru/Yoh AO3 tag... and was immediately intensely lonely. But they do say "make the content you want to see in the world" so I thought it couldn't hurt to resurrect one of my A N C I E N T ghost-shipping fics from its FF.net tomb and crosspost it over here. 
> 
> I guess if I get hype enough after the manga's out maybe I'll finish the sequels? Doubtful, but anything's possible, I suppose.
> 
> Holy gawd, this story is 16 years old and I was a very naive young person when I wrote it. Please be gentle. I've made a few minor edits, but take it for what it is I guess.
> 
> \-----
> 
> Original 2004 author's notes: Shamans and ghosts can touch each other according to the manga. It’s explicitly stated (right before this fic is supposed to take place, actually) that due to shamans existing on both the spirit and mortal planes, they can have physical contact with specters. Maybe I’m abusing this principle a bit, but it does have a real basis. ^_^;; Um. I do have to admit I’m going with the anime description of Yoh’s house, though, having not seen where he lives in the manga yet (I tried! I really tried to find scans of what Takei-san drew for the house, but there just weren’t any. Sorry.) Interesting note: according to www.mangajin.com and anime-tourist.com’s articles on Japanese ghosts, Amidamaru is technically called a “yuurei.” Female yuurei were often vengeful and dangerous, but most male yuurei were just warriors and the like who hung around wanting to tell people their stories.
> 
> \-----

It was as quiet a late spring night as there could be in the Tokyo suburbs. No cars passed by, only a handful of insects dared chirp, and the buzz of the streetlights seemed muted on the tepid, hazy air. In fact, had there been anyone out walking at midnight it would have been easy for them to pick out a soft, unfamiliar sound echoing down one particular avenue, a sound usually lost during the daytime hum of traffic and people: the sound of paintbrush bristles, scraping gently over the surface of a nearly finished billboard. The letters on the canvas, each almost four feet high and colored a brilliant, eye-catching red, spelled out a cheerfully garish advertisement for the budget alcohol “Gun Beer.”

Asakura Yoh felt an immeasurable sense of relief beginning to steal over him as he added the last few daubs of white paint to the floodlit sign he was sitting in front of. He had been laboring over the ad for almost three hours, but now the ghost of the painter controlling his arm finally seemed to be happy with what would be his last project on Earth. Even as Yoh flourished the ending stroke he was aware of the spirit’s presence beginning to trickle away, leaving his body to join a higher plane that Yoh could feel the existence of but not quite see even with his second-sighted vision.

“((Thank you.))”

The words floated from Yoh’s lips in a satisfied sigh, and then Kanta the billboard painter evaporated into the other realm completely. As soon as the ghost was gone Yoh became aware of every sensation that had been submerged while he was possessed: how cold it was getting, how much his muscles ached, and how he wished he had remembered to bring a snack on this little adventure. He would have felt completely drained, except for the fact that Kanta’s gratefulness to him and his happiness over finishing what the artist hadn’t been able to in life was still giving him a heady feeling of accomplishment. Helping spirits this way was what a shaman was supposed to do, and he had done it well today, if Yoh was any judge of his own work.

_Ouch,_ the boy thought as he tried to smile a bit too widely and made the barely-scabbed cut on his cheek sting a little in reproof. _Well, that’s what I get for letting him smack me in the face, I guess. I wonder what time it is? It’s sure... dark out here... all by myself..._

An involuntary shudder ran through his skinny body, and he reflexively moved to rub the surface of the memorial tablet hidden in his pocket.

“Amidamaru?”

((I am here, Yoh-dono. Are you finished with the illustrator’s work? Manta-dono asked me to let you know that he had to return home. Apparently he had some kind of play to watch.))

“Thanks. I thought I heard him say something about his TV show, but I didn’t want to break Kanta’s concentration by saying anythi--”

The tall ladder underneath him wobbled treacherously just as Yoh tried to stand up and get his feet back on the rungs. His half-numb legs buckled at just the wrong moment and almost before he realized it the shaman was falling, hurtling backwards towards a stretch of unforgiving blacktop nearly two stories below where he had been perched. A flash of terror burst in his chest-- _oh, shit, this is the way Kanta died!_ \--and he flung his arms out in a vain attempt to grab something, anything that would stop his rapid descent into darkness.

The very tips of his fingers grazed the top step of the ladder, but gravity pulled it out of reach before he even had time to hope. Then there was only cool air flying past his face and tearing his headphones off.

He braced himself for hitting the ground...

...and miraculously didn’t. There was a slight jolt, but that was all, and when he quit trembling enough to open his eyes the boy realized he was sprawled across the chest of his guardian ghost instead of embedded in the asphalt like he’d expected to be. Amidamaru had apparently thrown himself between Yoh and the sidewalk at the very last second; the spirit’s fingers were twined in the shaman’s hair, supporting his head where it would have bounced on the edge of the curb at impact. There were no more than five inches and the specter’s protective hand saving him from shattering the back of his skull.

“Whoa.”

((Indeed.)) The samurai sat up carefully, steadying the boy with a lightly balancing arm. ((That was very close. Are you alright?))

“Yeah, I think so.” The teenaged shaman slumped against his ghost. “Man, what a day... I think I could sleep for a week if I weren’t so hungry right now. It’s a good thing you were here or I might have died... one... two... three times since this morning. Thanks.”

((I am only glad that you are safe. I don’t know what I would have done if... if...))

Noticing the tormented look on his spirit’s face, the boy tilted his head to one side inquisitively. “What’s the matter, Amidamaru? I said I was okay, didn’t I?”

((Yes. I’m sorry, it’s nothing. Can you walk, or shall I carry you?))

“Haha, I’m not _that_ helpless. I can walk.” Yoh pushed himself to his feet, wobbled a few steps, and then thought better of the enterprise and sat down again when he almost tripped over where his headphones had landed. “Er... well, maybe I should rest for just one more minute... I think that fall might’ve been the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, know what I mean?”

Even the customarily light tone of Yoh’s voice couldn’t completely disguise the tremors of exhaustion hiding in it. Amidamaru drifted closer to his master and realized that if he let Yoh rest where he was, he was probably going to pass out right on the street and become easy prey for the next nighttime predator that happened to wander by. If the enemy wasn’t paranormal in nature or at least possessing of a little second sight, there wouldn’t be much the deceased samurai could do, no matter how much he wanted to ensure his liege’s safety.

((Yoh-dono, despite what you say I’m afraid I must respectfully insist you let me take you home,)) the young warrior said anxiously, aware that Yoh’s lids were already on the brink of fluttering closed. ((Come. Put your arms and legs around me so I can lift you.))

“What if somebody sees?” The boy’s head was already nestled in the curve of Amidamaru’s shoulder as he said this, slender limbs wrapped loosely around his partner’s torso. “I mean, it’s gonna look a little weird to anyone normal if they see me floating down the street, getting a piggyback from someone who isn’t there...”

((Only drunkards and thieves will be out this late. No one will believe them,)) Amidamaru replied, and hoped it was true--he still knew so little about this age that it might not be. That answer seemed to satisfy Yoh, though, and the boy let his guardian start to bear him on strong, untiring legs towards their house in the city fringes.

\-----

Despite what Amidamaru had feared, they met no one as he strode steadily away from the metropolis. Gradually the storefronts, restaurants and bars that had crowded around them gave way to grassy canals and stands of trees that rustled in the wind, and the swordsman began to relax as they left danger further and further behind. Yoh was a very light, unmoving burden on his back, and for a long time Amidamaru thought the mortal had quietly nodded off; he could hear soft music playing from the shaman’s headphones, the kind Yoh usually listened to when he went to sleep.

“Amidamaru? What’s it like? Being dead, I mean.”

The unexpected words were very calm and ran together a little, whispered into Amidamaru’s ear like the question of a dozing child. Yoh nuzzled the back of the samurai’s neck as he spoke, an unconscious gesture Amidamaru had seen the shaman use when he was happily snuggled in bed with his pillow.

((Has no other spirit ever told you this, in all your years of training, Yoh-dono?)) The ghost found himself keeping his tone hushed, and decided it was as much in deference to their peaceful, moonlit surroundings as to his own wish to let Yoh rest. ((I would have thought you might have been curious before now.))

“It never bothered me before... but as I was falling off that ladder, I realized that even though I know what happens after someone dies, I don’t know what it actually _feels like_ to be dead. Can you tell me? ...Please?”

((It is difficult for the dead to speak of the experience,)) Amidamaru hedged, obscurely sad that a boy Yoh’s age should be worrying about such a thing. ((It’s hard to be reminded of what we have lost...))

“I know... and I would have waited and asked someone else later... but I trust you. You’ll tell me the truth, even if it’s bad. I trust you more than anyone else on earth.”

Yoh nuzzled him again, encouragingly this time, and the samurai specter sighed. If it would put his master’s mind at ease, he would try to explain the differences between being encased in flesh and existing as an apparition of personality. There actually weren’t that many of them that he could think of, but the ones that immediately sprang to mind were more than enough to make a distinction between life and the state that followed it.

((Humans’ actions are largely dictated by the needs of their bodies, as I see it,)) he started after a pause to organize his thoughts. ((Being a ghost is different from being alive since the body and its constant needs are absent, but it is not as though you change who you were. Since the things that do not involve your body stay in place--memories, opinions, thoughts--it can be liberating not to feel hunger or pain any more. Without external sensations there is nothing to cloud your perception of who you are inside... perhaps dying is similar to attaining the Zen nirvana in that your material wants disappear completely, though your real identity continues to grow.))

“Don’t you miss those things, though? Never being hungry means you never get the happiness of gulping down a hamburger when you really want one, for instance...”

((Well... yes. There is an absence, a lack of connection that comes with being intangible and sometimes you miss things terribly. As a Zen practitioner myself I think that’s why ghosts don’t automatically become any more enlightened or perfect than they were before they died. Seeking to regain contact with the mortal plane can become a force just as driving as starvation or discomfort ever was in life--more, even, because it is an obsession nearly impossible to satisfy.))

“Never being able to feel the wind on your face or the grass under your feet... that would drive me crazy, too.” Yoh clung to the swordsman a little tighter. “If only there were more shamans every ghost who wanted to could share a body like you and I do...”

((M...Maybe.)) A complicated, painful emotion twisted inside Amidamaru’s chest-- _Does every ghost feel the way I feel when they slip into your warmth, Yoh?_ \--but he was saved from having to address the sentiment by the sight of their house’s gate looming in the distance. ((Ah. We’re here. Have you got the key? I would leap the wall and save you the trouble of opening the door, but I cannot fly well while I’m holding onto you.))

“S’alright. I feel way better now... well, _better_ , anyway. I’m gonna fix some ramen before I go to bed and then I should be fine--I think my blood sugar just got a little low. Thanks for the ride.”

As Yoh hopped down to unlock the gigantic wooden entrance Amidamaru sadly resigned himself to the numbness of feeling nothing once again. The lingering heat where the boy’s skin had pressed against him quickly dissipated on the night air, and the samurai was left with a sense of empty longing that was even sharper than the one he usually found himself suffering through. Amidamaru hadn’t admitted it to the shaman, but he was just as susceptible as any other ghost to the disembodied’s desire for contact--and he had really come to enjoy those brief moments when being close to Yoh allowed him to experience sensation again.

Sometimes... there were instants when he _craved_ the shaman’s presence, Amidamaru realized as he watched his mortal companion fumble with the house keys. He felt real when Yoh was near him... he felt happy... and he was beginning to suspect that he was letting himself become attached to the boy in a way that a guardian and a vassal really shouldn’t entertain for his lord.

“You’ve got that weird look on your face again,” Yoh pointed out innocently as he shoved the heavy gate ajar. “Are you positive nothing’s bothering you?”

((...Do not trouble yourself on my account, Yoh-dono...)) The young swordsman quickly flitted into the garden and endeavored to brighten his tone when he noticed how pitiful he sounded even to his own ears. ((Um, shall I go inside and turn on the lights for you so you don’t have to stumble around in the dark?))

“That’d be nice. Mm, I seriously hope the Tanakas aren’t planning on doing their haunted house bit tonight, I’m just too bushed to deal with all that screaming and blood dripping down the walls. Those guys still won’t listen to me when I tell them I’m not here to force them out.”

((I will ensure that they leave you in peace, then.)) Almost before the words were out of his mouth Amidamaru was beating a hasty retreat across the pond, eager--for once--to put a little distance between himself and the shaman.

_At least harassing the house shades will give me something to occupy my time with, rather than fixating upon these... unsettling thoughts._

\-----

Yoh boiled a bowl of instant noodles to the din of ghosts fighting somewhere deeper inside the bowels of the house. By the time he finished slurping the last of his soup broth he not only felt more like himself, but the noises had faded to a few resentful groans; it was safe to go to bed now. The Tanaka family might be used to violence--they had all been murdered, after all--but not even the most belligerent of the apparitions haunting the mansion dared rouse Amidamaru’s wrath more than once an evening.

Yoh smiled faintly as he shrugged off the shirt he was wearing and dragged his futon out of a closet. He had such a strong partner, it seemed like he hardly ever needed to worry about anything any more... even his rather irrational fear of the dark disappeared when his samurai was close by. After only a month of knowing him Yoh had already come to rely on Amidamaru as completely as he relied on his eyes to see, or his heart to beat.

_He was totally acting weird after I fell today, though. I don’t care what he says._ Yoh yawned as he groped for his robe with one hand and flicked off the bedroom’s overhead light with the other. _I’ve seen that face on him before, too, but I’m so sleepy I can’t think... hm... maybe it was when he was talking about Mosuke the other day? That’s gotta be rough, being separated from your best friend like that, maybe I should--_

((KYAAAAAAAAH!))

The half-human, half-nightmare scream gave Yoh just enough warning to duck out of the way when a kitchen knife as long as his forearm came slicing through the dimness. The blade’s arc sailed cleanly through a nearby wall without cutting it, but the shaman knew from past experiences that he wouldn’t be so lucky should the spectral metal happen to find his flesh. Distantly recognizing his attacker as Mrs. Tanaka--the member of family most vehemently opposed to his living in what she still considered _her_ house--the boy stumbled backwards and wracked his fatigue-numbed brain for some way to convince her not to add him to her list of victims. According to what he knew, she was the one galvanizing the other haunts to resist his presence, and they were all too scared of her to disobey since she was the one who had killed them in the first place.

_God, if she’s gotten determined enough to come at me directly like this, I don’t know what I can say to make her give up... I have to give her credit, when I first moved in I didn’t think she had the guts for a direct frontal assault._

A quick flurry of furious strikes forced Yoh to dodge right, then left, then right again in a viciously quick succession that left him panting and pinned up against a wall. He could feel his reflexes slowing down even as he desperately tried to force more speed out of them; numbly he realized he didn’t have any reserves left to break away from the corner she had forced him into. The next stab was going to be his last... he could almost feel the knife gliding between his ribs already.

_What a failure I am._ Even as he saw the final blow coming, a smile still found its way onto Yoh’s lips. _Oh well. At least now I know what to expect... I’m not afraid of dying any more, if what Amidamaru told me is true. We can go to heaven together..._

((You _hag!_ How dare you hide from me in here and then try to assassinate my lord while I am occupied with underlings! People like you have no pride.))

The point of the kitchen carver pricked Yoh’s bare chest and then stopped as Mrs. Tanaka glanced fearfully back towards the source of the words. A screech of pure terror was the only sound the murderess had a chance to make before Amidamaru’s sword slashed through her, scattering her incorporeal substance to oblivion in a shower of glittering sparks. The samurai stood frozen for a moment, eyes fixed on the ribbon of blood dripping down Yoh’s side, and then suddenly sank to his knees in a bow so low his forehead scraped the woven floor matting. As Yoh started to pull himself together he noticed that the warrior’s luminous outline was wavering slightly, his body visibly shaking where he crouched close to the ground.

_Amidamaru... is...?_

((Yoh-dono, if I were alive I would gladly slay myself a thousand times for letting that woman get within twenty paces of you,)) the pale-haired fighter choked out, not raising his head. ((As it is, I hardly know what punishment is appropriate for me. I... I am not fit to be your defender, if this is the paltry amount of assistance I can offer you... I shall leave this very moment if you have no parting uses for me.))

“Hey, hold on! Did I say anything about being upset? If anybody’s to blame here it’s me--if I’d been paying a little more attention, I would have noticed her way before she ever got the chance to take a swing at me.”

((It is not your duty to defend against such things, though--it is mine. _I_ am the one who should have been more alert.)) The samurai’s shoulders heaved, his voice dropping to a whisper. ((I should have protected you, but instead I let myself become distracted by thoughts of things other than your safety. That my lapse has resulted in your injury is simply unforgivable. You must despise me...))

\-----

Amidamaru felt as though his heart was on the verge of breaking. Because of his own selfish worries, because he had been so absorbed in trying not to think about Yoh’s smooth skin or sweet, confident smile, he had let himself become blind to a threat as obvious as a simple bedroom ambush. The guilt piercing him was sharper than the sword wounds that had ended his life; it was the same horrible sting he’d felt at Mosuke’s death, but magnified by the fact that he had sworn that he would never again be responsible for putting another person he cared for in harm’s way.

Soft sobs of wretchedness welled from the depths of his soul, but he held them in as much as he could and wept only in silence. Crying, he knew, was no longer an acceptable form of expression for men in this age, but he simply couldn’t keep his sorrow hidden no matter how hard he tried. The shame, the misery was simply too big for him to completely suppress.

_For this... for my own incompetence and unworthiness... I have to leave Yoh-dono forever... and it seems too great a punishment to bear, especially because I cannot tell him why it grieves me so._

“Amidamaru...”

The gentle pressure of a hand squeezing his shoulder surprised the spirit so much that he had to look up, even though he knew his face was streaked with shining phantom tears. Yoh was sitting in front of him, and a tiny, almost sad grin touched the edge of the boy’s mouth when he saw that he had reclaimed his guardian’s attention. He didn’t let go as Amidamaru expected him to, long, artistic fingers staying curled in the worn cloth of the samurai’s battle regalia even as he began to speak.

“Calm down and listen to me for a sec, okay? I could never, _ever_ despise you just because you’re not perfect enough to be in two places at once, got it? I was the one who asked you to take care of the Tanakas; if I hadn’t, you would have been right there with me just like always, and I know for a fact she wouldn’t have even have had the guts to come out from wherever she was hiding. This little, _tiny_ scratch is totally my fault, not yours.”

Yoh punctuated this last sentence by giving the samurai a slight shake, as if to make sure that the message and his sincerity really got through to his companion this time.

“And another thing. Look, I know that in your time samurai were expected to treat their lords as if they were more important than the sun and the moon, but you don’t have to be that way with me if you don’t want to. I’d much rather know that I have your loyalty because you _want_ to give it to me, not because you think you owe it to me as your ‘master’ or anything like that. I’d much rather be able to laugh with you as a friend than manipulate you as a slave... so you don’t need to bow and scrape all the time like I’m gonna have you beheaded if you aren’t superhuman. You’re just as important to me as I am to you.”

((Yoh-dono... you... you do me too much honor. But--if that is truly how you feel--))

“It is. I thought you knew that already.” The shaman pulled his spirit against him in a hug so warm and unexpected the swordsman actually allowed himself the luxury of hugging back. “Hey, I realize it’s hard to adjust to all this after 600 years, but just... try for me, okay?”

_I would try anything for you._ Undying loyalty and incredulous gratitude rushed in to fill the pit of his remorse, and suddenly the downy soft cheek pressed next to his was simply too much for Amidamaru to bear. ((Yoh-dono... if we are to be more like equals than as master and servant, may I... might I ask something of you in return, then?))

“Yeah, of course. What is it?”

((May I...)) _Oh, I should not even be imagining this._ ((May I... please... kiss you?))

Yoh pulled away from him with the speed of shock, but once those words--those lonely, reprehensible words--had escaped him Amidamaru discovered that he could neither take them back nor completely regret having said them. A faint hope rose: perhaps addressing his feelings directly would make them go away, or at least retreat to a level where their twistings and achings wouldn’t divert him from what he was supposed to be doing. He refused to have a repeat of this night’s dangers, even if Yoh had benevolently released him from responsibility this time.

((Please?)) the warrior murmured, and strangled the instinctive urge to bow again for asking such a favor. ((Just one... just once... then I swear to you that I shall--))

“You can do it.”

The shaman’s eyes reflected something unreadable, but his appearance was just as calm and relaxed as Amidamaru had ever seen it. He leaned forward again, chin tilted upwards enough to compensate for their difference in height. Only as he drew temptingly close did the samurai notice the way he held his hands: curled tightly, in fists, and pressed so hard against the floor that his arms were literally quivering with the strain.

\-----

_What’s the matter? Why isn’t he doing it?_

Suspense and the most nerve-wracking sense of uncertainty he had ever experienced in his life threatened to overwhelm Yoh as he sat motionless, gazing into the face of his guardian ghost. He wished the samurai would hurry up and claim his prize before he lost his courage; the thought that Amidamaru might actually decide _not_ to kiss him was such an excruciatingly divisive idea that Yoh wasn’t sure he even wanted to contemplate the possibility. Every part of his mind--not to mention several parts of his anatomy--all seemed to want different outcomes from the situation, and the shaman didn’t think he could resolve them all even if he bothered to try.

_Just do it,_ the boy thought instead, closing his eyes and directing the line at Amidamaru even though he knew that the ghost couldn’t hear him. _I can’t decide if I want you to or not, so just do it and take the choice out of my hands before I have to try and figure out how I feel._

_How I’ve felt... since I met you..._

Fingertips simultaneously cold and hot brushed over his face, tracing the curve of bone underneath his eye, and Yoh shivered--but whether from excitement or aversion, he couldn’t quite tell. Was it bad to like being touched like this, not only by another guy, but by a ghost as well? He honestly wasn’t sure... distantly he knew he acted old for his age, but most of his knowledge was based on what he’d learned from the spirit world rather than direct experience. Even that vicarious wisdom wasn’t helping him much here... normally he would have trusted that what his body and his instincts told him felt good was okay to enjoy, but...

_Are all first kisses this confusing?_

((Forgive me.))

The cool, fiery touch dropped to his wrists and then Amidamaru’s lips were nudging his, tentative and light as the first snowflakes of winter coming to gather and melt on his mouth. Yoh felt his heart lurch and then start to beat faster at how moving the sensation was. Kissing the ghost was how he imagined kissing electricity might be, if electricity spontaneously decided to caress instead of scorch.

Since Amidamaru wasn’t alive, Yoh couldn’t hear him breathing or smell the scent of his skin, but the samurai’s great aura still seemed to reach out and enfold him with feelings of security and affection so intense they were almost tangible presences. They gathered him in, drew him nearer to nestle in the samurai’s lap as though it were the most natural place in the world for him to be. All the turmoil in the shaman’s head began to dissipate as he realized the closest thing he could compare this experience to was merging in Hyoui Gattai: all the bravery and power of Amidamaru’s spirit offering itself to him so they could fuse into a better, stronger whole.

And nothing that reminded him of Hyoui Gattai could possibly be anything but wonderful.

Almost too soon, the ancient warrior flickered like a candle and gently pulled away. Yoh didn’t see his expression before the phantom hugged him close, but the teenager naturally assumed that Amidamaru had to be feeling the same fuzzy happiness that was coursing through his veins. He burrowed into the ghost’s embrace and relaxed, lids sliding shut again as he pressed his forehead against Amidamaru’s neck. Suddenly the whole day seemed vindicated, and the thought that he had a fall from a ladder and Mrs. Tanaka’s homicidal tendencies to thank for bringing him closer to his guardian was almost funny despite how terrifying the adventures had been. Amidamaru’s palm covering the wound on his side, Amidamaru’s face buried in his hair--they were worth all those dangers, and more.

_I love you, Amidamaru,_ Yoh thought, but before the words could make it to his mouth he was already plunging into the sleep of the exhausted and satisfied.

And because he was so tired, the shaman also missed something else that might have made him just a little bit less sure that everything was perfect: the mixture of elation, anguish and wrenching guilt in Amidamaru’s eyes as he started to cry again, perfect crystal tears that glowed like drops of moonlight and evaporated without ever getting anything wet.

\-----

**End notes:** The music I imagine coming from Yoh’s headphones during the moonlight walk is an ending theme from Outlaw Star, “Hiru no Tsuki”. Here is the English translation from www.animelyrics.com:

One soundless mid-day,

the wind was so cheerful.

Flower petals sway in the breeze

as if they were sleepy

This serene feeling...

Tell me, what's the word people use for it?

Tell me a story that's locked away

in the white-sand moon.

Let me hear it

as gently as light shining down...

Will the time come? When you will know the pain in my heart?

Then you'd be able to be gentler than you are now.

Such a warm feeling...

Tell me, what's the name that people give to it?

Softly, let me hear

of the distant future,

so bright it can't be seen,

like a white-sand moon.


End file.
